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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117631">the day after everything ends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy'>days4daisy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bedside Vigils, Extra Treat, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Permanent Injury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:48:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,610</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor saves the universe. An unhappy Tony Stark waits on the other side.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tony Stark/Thor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the day after everything ends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/gifts">HogwartsToAlexandria</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hope you have the loveliest of CBs, HogwartstoAlexandria!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thor wakes up. Sunlight casts waves across the white bed sheets tucked around his body. The bed he wakes on would be too small for his average night’s sleep, but someone has positioned him right. His legs are tucked together, hands folded over his belly. The mattress sits half-folded, Thor propped up with it.</p><p>The sounds and scents of battle are gone. Beyond fenced window blinds stand green trees untouched by Thanos’ destruction. The sky is blue. A pair of birds chirp past the glass.</p><p>Thor feels his weariness like a weight across his chest. It presses down every time he breathes. To ache is to be alive though, despite his surprise at finding himself still here. Thor is alive; breathing, on Midgard.</p><p>Thor sits in an unremarkable room. His white bed sheets match the white ceiling overhead. White walls, white window blinds, and gray tiles underfoot. He recognizes the Avengers facility. The medical wing, if he’s not mistaken. Thor hasn’t had much reason to venture to this area before now. Only to check on the health of ailing mortal compatriots. Never for himself, yet he feels he’s been here a long while. His eyelids are sticky from a long sleep, and his limbs are drowsy and unused.</p><p>Most striking, though, is the clarity of his thoughts. Thor’s mind bears a crispness that he has not felt in some time. He made sure of that, drowning his grief with as much ale as New Asgard could afford his indulgence. In days past, clearness of thought would have jarred him into hunting down a fresh tankard. Now, Thor’s alertness is a comfort. It tells him that everything he sees before him is real.</p><p>An unhappy Tony Stark occupies the sole chair at Thor's bedside.</p><p>It’s not uncommon to see the Man of Iron aggrieved, but the reproach he wears now is only matched by his tiredness. Sleepless circles sit under his eyes, and his skin lacks its normal pallor, as if he has not seen the sun in days. Tony has forsaken tailored dress for a black hoodie sweatshirt and jeans. Thor smiles when he sees him. This reaction only seems to darken Tony’s anger.</p><p>“So,” Thor greets, “we survived then.” His voice comes out hoarse and out of practice.</p><p>“Guess you could say that,” Tony says. “Here.” He thrusts a cup in Thor’s direction. It bears a white straw with red pinstripes along its length.</p><p>Thor does not take the offered water. It’s not for lack of trying, but that his reach goes unheeded by his right arm. Confused, Thor looks down. His hands both rest on the curve of his belly, but his right is a map of criss-crossed bandages. They cover his fingers and wrist, up his forearm and bicep to disappear under the sleeve of his shirt. Thor does not need to see to know what his skin must look like beneath the wrapping. One does not harness the stones without consequences, even a once-golden son of Asgard.</p><p>Thor should feel something at the realization of what’s happened. He reaches for emotion, but...nothing. There’s nothing.</p><p>Thor takes the still-extended water with his left hand and mumbles, “Thank you.”</p><p>He can’t be sure if his words or the action rekindle Tony’s ire. “That’s it? ‘Thank you’? That's all you got?”</p><p>Thor slurps gratefully from the cup. The cool temperature of the drink is welcome. His breaths grow heavy in his eagerness. He sucks from the straw until his cheeks turn hollow. The cup announces its emptiness too soon with an apologetic gurgle.</p><p>Tony snatches the cup away without offering to refill it. “You’ve got no business being alive,” he tells Thor. “None. What the hell were you thinking?”</p><p>Thor lets his head sink back on his pillow. His hair, loose and unkempt, frames his face. He’s in need of a bath, he’s sure.  A chance to scrub the lingering scent of death from his fingernails.</p><p>“We told you,” Tony continues, louder. “<em>I</em> told you, you were in no condition. I said that, didn’t I? Was I talking to myself? I told you, Thor.”</p><p>“You did,” Thor agrees.</p><p>Looking at Tony, he remembers that moment. Struck at the right angle, his body and the gauntlet landed side by side. Thanos looked away for seconds at most. Danvers. Stark. Rogers. They faced him, everyone did, bravery written across dirty, blood-streaked faces.</p><p>Thor looked upon them, and he knew. He had, to that point, failed as Midgard’s champion. (How Loki would have mocked him, were he smiling down in that moment. How right he would have been.) Thor had one chance to make amends. One chance, and he would not fail, not even if it cost his own life.</p><p>Thor cast a glance skyward to his forefathers and mothers. Perhaps one last selfless deed could vault a warrior fallen from grace into Valhalla. Thor could see his father again, his mother. Or maybe all that awaited Thor were empty fields to wander alone for the rest of time. So be it.  “Brother. Heimdall,” he mouthed. “Look for me.” His eyes met Tony’s, and he donned the gauntlet.</p><p>The universe became vast, and remarkably small. Thor felt the presence of trillions; heard screams of past and future generations. Times and worlds that would exist or die with one simple snap of his fingers. Thor opened his arms to greet them and brought his thumb and forefinger together.</p><p>Now, he lies in the Avengers facility with Stark at his side. His right arm sits useless atop him. It seems a small sacrifice for righting his wrongs and striking the Mad Titan down for good. Though, he will miss the swing of Stormbreaker in his dominant hand. He will miss it greatly.</p><p>By Stark’s narrowed glare, Tony does not agree with the measure of his sacrifice. Thor can’t help but laugh, a rumble deep in his chest that warms even his sleep-numbed limbs. His mirth earns a frustrated tap of a boot against the floor. “I’m not getting the joke,” Tony grumbles.</p><p>“We’re alive,” Thor answers, because it’s the most obvious answer in the world. He holds his left hand out to Tony like he stretched his arms to the past, present, and future.</p><p>Tony shakes his head, but he does take Thor’s hand. His feels slighter than usual, more knuckle and bone than flesh. Thor tucks his fingers through Tony’s, hoping to warm them. Tony’s scoff says he doesn’t appreciate the gesture, even as he takes a seat by Thor’s side. There isn’t enough room for two grown bodies on the cot. Tony’s legs hang off the side, but he manages to fit most of his upper body against the raised mattress. Thor lets his weight sink against Tony’s side. He feels Tony’s eyes on him, but he gives the gesture no comment.</p><p>“The thing is,” Stark says, once the silence stretches too long, “you had no way of knowing that would work. Yeah, there’s all that bullshit you said about being the strongest Avenger. But you couldn’t know. You had no way of knowing you’d make it out the other side.”</p><p>Thor looks up at Tony, he has to while Tony half-stands against the cot. He wonders at the answer that will satisfy him. Satisfaction is not in Stark’s nature when it contradicts fact. “I didn’t know,” Thor says at last, because it’s the truth.</p><p>Tony turns a glare on him. “You should have known better.”</p><p>“And left the task to whom?” Thor smiles bitterly because he already knows the answer. “You?”</p><p>Tony’s anger turns weary. He reminds Thor of how young Midgard is, how frail and short-lived its people, Stark among them. Thor’s chest clenches, and he has to remember to breathe. One day perhaps he’ll learn how others endure when those they love fade. One day, but Thor has not yet, and he fears he never will.</p><p>“Thor, you were in no condition-”</p><p>“I was not losing you,” Thor says. “I’ve lost too much. I refuse to lose more.”</p><p>Tony shakes his head. “Things don’t work like that.”</p><p>“This time they do,” Thor tells him. Tony snorts but doesn’t argue further. It’s a sign of Stark’s weariness that he would forgo the opportunity to continue a verbal spar.</p><p>Thor can't say he minds; fighting is not high on his list of desired activities at the moment either. He is more content to sit, lethargy in his bones, but warm and safe. The Man of Iron at his side, close enough for Thor to feel his every breath</p><p>Tony isn’t looking at him, facing the back wall and its window of green. His profile has aged in the short time Thor has known him. Gray sprouts among the black stubble on his jaw and adds texture to hair once maintained to the point of vanity. Pride and its fall from importance are things Thor knows well.</p><p>He tucks a kiss to Tony’s shoulder. Tony’s eyes slant towards Thor, but Thor is already settling himself against the lines of Tony’s side. He hears and feels a sigh; it makes Tony’s chest rise in an unmistakable sign of life. Thor loves it as much as he loves this moment.</p><p>“I hate you sometimes,” Tony says. He stretches an arm around Thor’s shoulders, bony fingers dangling against Thor’s sleeve.</p><p>Thor’s mouth tips in a show of favor. “Thank you,” he replies. “I feel the same.”</p><p>Another sigh, this one accompanied by a brush of lips to Thor’s hair. At the moment, it's the finest gift this realm could give. Thor closes his eyes and relives it again and again until sleep takes him.</p>
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